Between power and powerlessness lies a knife’s edge—and Vic Wood walks it with bloody determination
In the shadowed halls where magic breathes and death whispers, Liza Anderson constructs a world that feels simultaneously ancient and achingly immediate. We Who Have No Gods by Liza Anderson marks the opening of The Acheron Order series with the confidence of an author who understands that true darkness isn’t found in monsters alone, but in the spaces between belonging and exile, power and vulnerability, love and survival.
When the Powerless Enter Sacred Halls
Victoria “Vic” Wood has built her existence on two foundations: keeping her younger brother Henry safe and forgetting their mother ever existed. For eight years, she’s maintained this precarious balance through sheer force of will, working restaurant wages and playing parent to a brother she’d die to protect. But when Henry reveals that their vanished mother belonged to the Acheron Order—a clandestine society of witches tasked with guarding the boundary between the living and the dead—Vic’s carefully constructed life shatters like glass.
Anderson’s protagonist carries the weight of the dispossessed. Unlike Henry, who inherited their mother’s magical abilities, Vic possesses no powers of her own. Yet when Henry is recruited to Avalon Castle, an imposing gothic fortress hidden in the isolated woods of upstate New York, Vic makes an impossible choice: she follows him into a world that has no place for someone like her. The castle becomes both sanctuary and prison, a place where Vic must constantly prove her worth to witches who view her presence as an insult to their legacy.
What distinguishes We Who Have No Gods by Liza Anderson from conventional chosen-one narratives is its protagonist’s fundamental ordinariness. Vic isn’t special—she’s stubborn. She doesn’t discover hidden powers or ancient lineage; instead, she claws her way into relevance through observation, cunning, and a willingness to bleed for what matters. Anderson refuses the easy path of magical awakening, choosing instead to explore what happens when determination confronts insurmountable odds.
The Architecture of Gothic Darkness
Anderson constructs Avalon Castle with the meticulous attention of someone who understands that setting functions as character. The fortress isn’t merely backdrop—it’s a living entity that breathes with centuries of accumulated power and pain. Cathedral-like architecture soars toward shadowed ceilings while torch-lit corridors stretch into darkness that feels hungry. Training rooms bear scorch marks from generations of witches learning to harness forces that could consume them. The library holds not just knowledge but secrets, its books screaming protests when opened after decades of silence.
The dark academia elements interweave seamlessly with gothic horror. Recruits study the Universal Language—an instinctive magical system expressed through symbols and sounds that feel both alien and ancient. Training sessions involve shattering stones with thought, reading memories from blood-soaked artifacts, and learning to see the threads of magic that bind reality together. Anderson grounds her magical system in visceral, often disturbing details that give weight to every spell cast and every ward broken.
But the true horror emerges not from the Orcans—monsters from the land of the dead that the Order hunts—but from the Brotherhood of Mann, a rival faction led by former Elder Aren Mann. This extremist organization embraces the very magic the Order forbids, using death itself as currency for power. The ideological war between Order and Brotherhood forms the novel’s backbone, raising questions about tradition versus progress, control versus chaos, and whether any cause justifies the cost in innocent lives.
Romance in the Shadows
The relationship between Vic and Xan (Alexandros), the castle’s Chief Sentinel, crackles with the kind of tension that makes readers hold their breath. Anderson resists instalove, instead building their connection through conflict, grudging respect, and moments of devastating vulnerability.
Key elements of their dynamic include:
- Power imbalance: Xan embodies everything Vic lacks—magical ability, authority, belonging—yet she refuses to be diminished by the disparity
- Mutual protection: Both characters struggle between keeping the other safe and acknowledging their capability to choose danger
- Physical chemistry: Their training sessions become charged battlegrounds where combat bleeds into something more intimate
- Emotional walls: Years of isolation have armored both characters against connection, making every crack in their defenses feel earned
Xan himself defies easy categorization. He’s imposing and ruthless, capable of transforming into living shadow to hunt and kill. Yet Anderson reveals depths beneath the intimidating exterior—grief over a lost brother, fear of losing control, and a desperate desire to protect those he cares about even when it means pushing them away. The romance never overwhelms the plot but instead enriches it, giving both characters something personal at stake beyond the fate of the magical world.
Where Shadows Lengthen: Critical Considerations
While We Who Have No Gods by Liza Anderson delivers atmospheric world-building and compelling character work, certain elements may challenge reader patience. The novel’s pacing occasionally stumbles, particularly in the middle sections where Vic’s training sequences can feel repetitive. Training montages, while establishing her growing competence, sometimes delay forward momentum in the larger conflict.
The magical system, though atmospheric, lacks the crystalline clarity some readers crave. Anderson prioritizes intuitive understanding over rigid rules, which creates wonderful moments of discovery but can also generate confusion about what Vic can and cannot accomplish. The distinction between Born and Made witches, while thematically rich, sometimes muddles in execution.
Additionally, certain secondary characters remain frustratingly underdeveloped. Sarah Garza, Vic’s fellow Made witch and closest friend at Avalon, shows promise but receives insufficient page time to fully realize her potential. Elder Max Shepherd, who serves as Vic’s primary advocate, possesses a complex history with both Vic’s mother and Aren Mann that deserves deeper exploration than it receives.
We Who Have No Gods also grapples with information distribution. Critical revelations about Meredith Wood’s true role, the history of the Order-Brotherhood split, and the nature of Orcan magic arrive in dense exposition blocks that can overwhelm. Anderson’s prose shines brightest in action and atmosphere; when forced to explain rather than show, the narrative momentum occasionally stalls.
Strengths That Elevate
Despite these considerations, We Who Have No Gods by Liza Anderson succeeds brilliantly in several key areas:
- Protagonist agency: Vic makes choices with real consequences, and Anderson doesn’t shield her from the fallout of her decisions
- Atmospheric horror: The Orcan encounters genuinely disturb, particularly the manananggal attack sequence that showcases Anderson’s talent for visceral description
- Family complexity: The sibling relationship between Vic and Henry evolves realistically, acknowledging how power disparities can fracture even the closest bonds
- Morally gray antagonism: Aren Mann emerges as more than a simple villain, his ideology twisted but internally consistent
- World-building foundations: Anderson establishes a mythology rich enough to support multiple installments while leaving mystery intact
The novel’s ending positions readers perfectly for the series continuation, resolving immediate threats while expanding the scope of the conflict. Vic’s transformation from powerless outsider to someone who can manipulate magic through sheer force of will and a dangerous mystical connection feels earned rather than convenient.
The Verdict
We Who Have No Gods by Liza Anderson announces a promising new voice in dark fantasy romance. While not without flaws—pacing issues and occasional exposition dumps being the most notable—the novel’s atmospheric strengths, complex protagonist, and richly imagined world outweigh its weaknesses. Anderson writes with particular skill when exploring the spaces between power and powerlessness, belonging and exile, demonstrating that sometimes the most dangerous magic is the determination to survive in a world that wants you gone.
For readers who appreciate gothic atmospheres, morally complex relationships, and protagonists who earn their victories through blood and stubbornness rather than prophecy, this series opener, We Who Have No Gods, delivers. The cathedral-like halls of Avalon Castle hold more than magic—they hold the promise that even the powerless can carve their place in a world built to exclude them.
For Readers Who Enjoyed:
- The Atlas Six by Olivie Blake – Dark academia magic and morally complex characters navigating power structures
- A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik – Survival in a magical institution with genuine stakes and compelling protagonist
- Ninth House by Leigh Bardugo – Gothic atmosphere, secret societies, and an outsider protagonist fighting for belonging
- The Poppy War by R.F. Kuang – Brutal magical training, war’s moral complexity, and cost of power
- House of Hollow by Krystal Sutherland – Gothic horror elements and sisters navigating mysterious supernatural circumstances